


We Build It Up, We Tear It Down

by fairywriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Bisexual Greg Lestrade, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, I have too many Mycroft feels, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lestrade has a teenage daughter, M/M, Minor Character Death, Molly Hooper is BAMF and don't you forget it, Mrs. Thomas is a sweet old lady.... and totally not a spy, Mycroft Has Issues, Mycroft-centric, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Protectiveness, Self-Worth Issues, Verbal Abuse, not very nice to the Holmes parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairywriter/pseuds/fairywriter
Summary: Mycroft is a bit traumatized, a bit worried about Sherlock, and more than a bit confused as to why he suddenly has a detective inspector practically living with him. Not that he's complaining, per se.Of course, it would help immensely if his little brother would stop getting into trouble every five minutes. Mycroft just needs a break from family drama.... but between his family, the Watson family, and the Lestrade family... he's not going to get that break anytime soon. The East Wind may be safely taken care of, but there's a cold North Wind taking it's place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I needed an outlet for my Mycroft feels from The Final Problem and... it snowballed into a multi-chapter fic. 
> 
> To repeat what some of the tags say, I'm not a fan of the Holmes parents and I actually consider that they're rather abusive to Mycroft. I will be exploring that some in this fic.

Quiet. Empty. Lonely…

“Lonely!” Mycroft scoffed as he closed the front door to his house. His house… not his home. He didn’t need a home, or people to come home to. He was above those things, he had to be. Sentiment was foolish, caring would only hurt you, he’d learned those lessons young thanks to Eurus.

Eurus. His little sister. Mycroft shuddered slightly and leaned heavily back against the door. Eurus still scared him, what if she got out again? What if she went after Sherlock again? He’d done everything he could to make sure that wouldn’t happen… but he’d thought that before. The problem was that he did care about her, he wasn’t as overly protective of her as he was Sherlock, but he couldn’t be. He had a job to do and she had proven herself useful. Did that justify what he’d done? Mycroft wasn’t sure. He’d done his job and protected his country. But he also wanted, _needed_ , to protect his family, _all_ of his family. The same family that didn’t much want anything to do with him now. Oh Sherlock _cared_ but Sherlock had his own demons to deal with, not to mention the Watsons, Dr. Watson and his daughter were in the process of moving into the newly repaired 221B. Mycroft didn’t envy Sherlock the nights with a crying baby, but he did slightly envy him for finding what Mycroft could never even hope for. And despite his parents seemingly forgiving him, he knew it was only a matter of time before the topic would come back up. They never could truly forgive his mistakes, he’d learned _that_ young too, he was supposed to be better and couldn’t be. Not that he didn’t try.

“Damn it all” he swore, the palm of his free hand ground into his eyes as he tried to shake the memories and melancholy thoughts away. He didn’t have anyone, not for this, and it was as simple as that. He needed to get a grip and eat some supper. He’d barely been eating since this had all started and Anthea would start pestering him if his clothes got too loose. Of course, she was _paid_ to care about him, but she didn’t do a bad job on such things.

The knock on the door startled him and he swung around as his grip tightened on his umbrella momentarily.

“No, you are not going to do this, you are not going to be paranoid about a knock on the door of all things” he told himself firmly. It was probably just elderly Mrs. Thomas from next door, for some odd reason she liked to bring Mycroft leftover pieces of whatever recent dessert she’d fixed. Not that he was complaining, she was an excellent baker, but he’d been terribly suspicious at first, he’d had her investigated for every conceivable thing. He still wondered sometimes if she was a spy, but mostly he accepted that she just liked to bake and didn’t have anyone else to share with. He sighed and unlocked the door, if it was Mrs. Thomas he’d have to stand and talk to her for at least ten minutes before pretending to get a phone call, but he supposed that wasn’t a terrible price to pay for something sweet.

“Hey Mycroft” the silver-haired man standing on his stoop was definitely not a neighbor.

“Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked, nonplussed to see Gregory Lestrade at his house.

“Mind if I come in for a bit?” the other man asked “only, I brought some supper for you, thought you might like to try some of my daughter’s cooking. She’s pretty good in the kitchen, and I’m not just being a proud papa here” he grinned at Mycroft and held up a bag of… mmm, szechuan chicken, if Mycroft’s nose hadn’t failed him.

“That… that is very... thoughtful?... um, of you? ” Mycroft stepped aside as he fumbled his words, he wasn’t used to feeling so out of control, but he would admit that seeing D.I. Lestrade, here, and with a bag full of food was actually lower on his list of “not impossible, but highly unlikely” things than Sherlock hugging him would be.

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to starve and I didn’t figure you much felt like shopping or cooking” he paused “or do you have someone to do that for you? I feel like you might, but anyway, Kate likes cooking and I told her I had a friend that was going through a tough time and she offered” he breezed past Mycroft and poked his head through a doorway “kitchen this way? I want to heat this chicken up a bit, I came straight here after I picked it up, but you know how traffic can be”.

Mycroft nodded mutely and followed the detective inspector into his kitchen.

“D. I. Lestrade…” he started as the other man began pulling out fragrant bowls of food from his bag.

“Bit formal isn’t it?” the man interrupted “I mean, I generally call you Mycroft, you ought to call me Greg”.

“Yes well” Mycroft paused to collect his thoughts “not that I don’t… appreciate… this. But I don’t quite understand why you’re here?”.

“Really?” Greg turned to him “I thought it was obvious. I’m concerned about you so I brought you some food, that is what people do you know” he said “here, stick this bowl in the microwave” he instructed as he handed a large bowl to Mycroft.

“Well… yes, I _do_ know that” Mycroft answered “but I don’t understand why you would be concerned about me, I’m perfectly fine” he lied as he placed the bowl carefully in his microwave and turned it on.

Greg stopped scooping rice into bowls and turned to stare at Mycroft incredulously.

“You don’t actually expect me to believe that do you?” he asked “John explained things pretty well you know, which is why I know that you’ve been through hell and back. And that you’ve been dealing with all of this far too long on your own”.

“I am used to being alone” Mycroft replied softly, crossing his arms over his chest “I prefer it actually”.

Greg shook his head “sorry Mycroft, I don’t believe that. If you really wanted to be left alone you wouldn’t have even opened your door”. He turned back to the rice “get the silverware would you?” he asked.

“Greg” Mycroft waited until the other man turned back to him “I don’t have friends, I don’t believe that caring is an advantage, I don’t want to…” he trailed off.

Greg’s eyes sharply assessed him for a moment before he answered.

“Mycroft, you _do_ have at least one friend” he said “I’m here because I _care_ , disadvantage or not” he moved closer to Mycroft and placed a hand on his arm.

“What is it you don’t want?” he asked gently “if you truly don’t want me here than I’ll go”.

Mycroft shook his head “no! I… I don't want to be alone Greg” he admitted letting some of the horror of the last week bleed into his tone. He couldn't help it, the thought of the detective inspector leaving made him shake. Despite that, he pulled away from Greg and moved to the silverware drawer. He was trying to control himself. Trying, desperately, to be the ice man everyone thought he was.

“Alright then” Greg acknowledged, he didn't say anything else for a bit and Mycroft concentrated on pulling out the correct number of forks and then finding some napkins as a few moments of peaceful silence invaded the kitchen.

He heard Greg open the microwave and turned around in time to see him place the steaming bowl on the counter.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Greg asked as he spooned the chicken over the rice.

“This is good” Mycroft replied.

“Yeah it is” Greg nodded then smiled at him.

Mycroft lowered his eyes quickly to the szechuan chicken and took a bite, Greg’s smile made him feel a bit odd, he frowned as he tried to figure out why.

“What? Not good?” Greg asked worriedly “I didn't think to ask if you like szechuan chicken”.

“No, no it's quite good!” Mycroft exclaimed hurriedly “I was just thinking is all”.

“Oh? Something serious I guess” Greg’s tone was questioning but he didn't pursue it when Mycroft didn’t answer.

He started talking about one of his latest cases and Mycroft was glad that he didn't have contribute much as he was still puzzling over this whole “friend” thing and the odd feelings he was having, and when did Greg start considering him a friend? Mycroft certainly hadn't encouraged anything of the sort. And why did the thought make him… well, happy? Perhaps he was having more trouble processing the Eurus situation than he’d originally thought and it was now affecting him in strange ways? He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts and Greg laughed.

“Are you even listening?” he asked.

“My apologies, I was… still thinking” Mycroft replied.

“Ah” Greg waved a hand “that’s alright, it’s not that interesting of a tale anyway”.

“Actually, the part I did hear seemed intriguing. Would you care to retire to the study with a glass of something and tell me again?” Mycroft offered “I promise to listen this time” he added with a small smile that he was surprised to find he didn’t have to force, actually, he was very much hoping the detective inspector would agree. There was no sense worrying about the whys and hows right now. Enjoying someone else’s company wouldn’t be the end of the world and it didn’t have to mean anything later, things could go back to normal tomorrow.

“Alright then” Greg agreed “I’ll put the rest of this chicken in the refrigerator, you can have it later”.

“I will enjoy it greatly, you’re quite right you know, your daughter is an excellent cook. Please tell her I said so” Mycroft stacked the dishes in the sink while Greg put away the food. It was an oddly domestic and comfortable scene and Mycroft sighed softly. It was _nice_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos!

“I’ll take care of it” Anthea promised as she closed the last file for the day.

 “Thank you”  Mycroft dismissed her and turned his attention to the paperwork on the desk in front of him, his assistant didn’t move however and he glanced back up at her.

 “Is there something else?” he asked.

  Anthea pursed her lips and nodded slightly.

 “Well? What is it?” Mycroft asked impatiently.

 “Lady Smallwood was here earlier, I informed her that you were busy and she said something about trying again later” Anthea told him “you know Mr. Holmes, you can’t keep putting her off forever”.

 Mycroft waved a hand dismissively “I have no interest in getting drinks with her, she is a co-worker and nothing more”.

 “Is that why you have me discretely investigating her?” Anthea cocked an eyebrow at him and he was reminded that she was quite a bit more than just an assistant.

 “There is something not quite right” Mycroft replied, wanting to leave it at that.

 “Mmm hmm” Anthea nodded “or… perhaps you’re just not used to somebody trying to seduce you”.

 Mycroft shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Anthea’s face took on a triumphant look.

 “That is it!” she exclaimed “you just don’t believe that she’s simply interested in you for sex”.

 "Because such a reason makes no sense” Mycroft protested “my reputation is well known”.

 "Exactly” Anthea nodded forcefully “you’d be quite the feather in her cap… or notch on her headboard”.

 “I think we should change the subject” Mycroft grimaced.

 “I’m only trying to protect your honor” Anthea had the audacity to grin at him.

 “Really Anthea” Mycroft shook his head at her.

 “Yes” she replied “but also, I found something interesting” she handed him a file from her stack and he frowned at it.

 “Something worth investigating more?” he asked.

 “Actually, she’s been investigating you” Anthea replied “she hasn’t found anything compromising, her investigator isn’t on my level” she said with just a trace of pride.

 “There is hardly anything compromising to find, my sister is about it, and the right people already know about her” he steepled his fingers and stared over them at Anthea “why would she be investigating me anyway?”.

 “Because she doesn’t want another potential scandal attached to her name?” Anthea suggested “if she really is interested in seducing you, or possibly more, than that’s likely the reason. She’s being cautious after the incident with Magnusson”.

 “And if her reasons are even less savory than that?” Mycroft inquired.

 “Well, that’s why I’m deepening my investigation” Anthea told him “don’t worry Mr. Holmes, I intend to protect your honor on every level” she smiled saucily at him and turned to leave.

 Mycroft shook his head. Around other people Anthea was the most professional person he knew, but when it was just them she tended to let her professionalism slip. She was clever though, and generally said what she thought, and those thoughts were almost always useful. He supposed it was probably long past time for a raise, he didn’t want anyone to poach her.

.

.

.

Anthea’s face slipped into a well-practiced pleasant expression as she rounded the corner towards her desk, there was Lady Smallwood, back again. 

A sliver of unease had worked it’s way into Anthea’s mind since Mycroft had asked her to investigate the other woman. Sadly though, Anthea couldn’t pinpoint why she felt that. There was precious little in her file on Lady Smallwood that they hadn’t already known. Nothing compromising, and nothing that indicated any reason for her to be interested in Mycroft other than her stated intentions. Truthfully, Anthea could admit, in the deep privacy of her own mind, that Mycroft was… well, intriguing. So it wasn’t impossible that Lady Smallwood was actually intrigued, Mycroft might not think so, but it had happened before and his so called “reputation” hadn’t really stopped the occasional interest from various parties. No, actually it was Anthea who had stopped those parties from acting on their interest. She knew damn well that Mycroft would never be interested in any of them.

Regardless of Lady Smallwood’s reasons, Mycroft had made his opinion well known and now it was Anthea’s job to politely tell Lady Smallwood. Her pleasant expression didn’t drop but she sighed internally and prepared herself for a potential battle. Lady Smallwood could be stubborn. Of course, so could Anthea, that was one reason she was so good at her job. That, and she genuinely cared about her boss, he was exasperatingly oblivious to such things, but she supposed that came along with being a genius from the Holmes family.

Oh. Anthea’s plans changed course suddenly as she saw the man standing behind Lady Smallwood, they were here on business. She walked behind her desk and pressed the button for Mycroft’s phone.

"Mr. Holmes, Lady Smallwood and Mr. Melville are here” she waited for his acknowledgement then beckoned the pair to follow her to his office. She wasn’t invited to remain so she slipped back to her desk and sat down with a dissatisfied look on her face. Mycroft was supposed to still be taking it easy, obviously he wouldn’t be tonight, Melville didn’t show up unless something truly terrible had happened, or was going to happen. In which case it was going to be a long night.

“Better find the takeout menus” she murmured, couldn’t let Mycroft go without eating, he was already looking too thin. She might have to ask his neighbor, Mrs. Thomas, to make some of his favorite scones. Mrs. Thomas had become her unlooked for ally in the fight to keep Mycroft well fed.

.

.

.

“Are we sure about this?” Mycroft asked “because if we are not” he paused meaningfully.

"Yes, well I have it on good authority” Melville replied “and since Sophie Platz and Peter Lambton were both murdered tonight”.

"Perhaps” Mycroft replied drily “you should've led with that tidbit”.

"You're right, I'm sorry” Melville shook his head “it's been one of those days Mr. Holmes”.

"So I see” Mycroft sighed and looked at Lady Smallwood “this will be difficult, we need proof that this is real before we can even begin looking for who it might be”.

“A spy or traitor, at this level of government could be devastating” she shook her head grimly “we're in for it this time Mycroft, we'll be lucky if we don't all get cleaned out”.

"At the moment, we have far bigger worries than our jobs” Mycroft replied, not letting his disdain for her comment show in his tone despite the clear rebuke of his words.

"Of course” she replied frostily “but as I have already been interrogated once for treason, I'm sure you can see how poorly this will reflect on me”.

"If you are not a traitor than you will likely be fine. After all, _you_  have a very _public_  position, getting rid of you quietly could be tricky… could be made even trickier if someone was so inclined” Mycroft answered “but again, that isn't our concern right now, we need to investigate this quickly and quietly”.

“We need your brother” Lady Smallwood stated.

 "I know” Mycroft replied “if he agrees to help”.

"Well, if he doesn't.... I suppose it will be left to you to find someone who will” Lady Smallwood told him “or, better yet, convince him it's in his best interests to cooperate”.

"You have met Sherlock Holmes” Mycroft pointed out.

 "Fair point” Lady Smallwood admitted “but we need him”.

 "I'll do my best” Mycroft promised.

 . 

.

.

“Baker street” Mycroft told his driver. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, the meeting with Lady Smallwood and Melville had continued on for another hour after Sherlock's name had first come up and Mycroft had been grateful for Anthea’s insistence that they take a short break to eat, he'd needed that fifteen minutes to curb his growing annoyance at the other two. 

His mind switched tracks and he clenched a fist tightly around his umbrella. 

“Idiots” he whispered vehemently, oh not his colleagues… well, not this time. No, the two victims, the second they sniffed a hint of danger they should've contacted their handlers. Unless they didn't have time? But really, they were two of Melville’s best, how could they both have been caught so off guard? And if they were… that was a thought Mycroft preferred not to contemplate until he absolutely had to… like tonight, when he ought to be sleeping. Not now though, not when he needed to be getting his head on straight so he could deal with his brother. He hadn't actually seen Sherlock since the private concert at Sherrinford, he wasn't terribly sure what his reception would be. He needed to prepare, to relax.

“Hmmm” he hummed softly as his mind went to the night before, Greg’s delighted face as Mycroft helped him figure out the answer to his case.

“You know, Sherlock usually just tells me right out” Greg had said.

“Hard to learn that way, besides, you already had the pieces your mind just hadn't put them together yet” Mycroft had answered “you're not a bad detective, you can solve cases without a Holmes”.

Greg had snorted inelegantly “yeah, tell that to your brother, he thinks I'm an imbecile. Used to annoy the hell out of me”.

“Used to?” Mycroft had questioned curiously.

Greg had waved a hand dismissively “mm, I won't say you get used to it. You kinda realize it's just how he is and he's worth putting up with. People might not believe it, but I like Sherlock Holmes. He's a good man”.

Mycroft had quirked an eyebrow at that, but he hadn't said anything, it was both odd, and also rather gratifying to hear Sherlock described as such. 

Their night had ended soon after that with Greg figuring he'd better get to arresting his murderer. He'd promised to come back and pick up the bowls in the next couple of days though, Mycroft decided he was looking forward to it. Perhaps they could discuss another case.

The car pulled up in front of Mrs. Hudson’s property and Mycroft took a deep breath.

"Into battle I suppose” he whispered.

 


End file.
